


Silence Doesn't Scare Me (But Leave the Radio On)

by Owlheart101



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Cute, F/M, Music, NSP, Night, Swearing, TWRP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlheart101/pseuds/Owlheart101
Summary: None of the computer monitors glowed, something very irregular in this office, and as I closed my eyes, it occurred to me how quiet it was. Only Dan and I, sitting in the dim light, with the only sound coming from his typing and the hum of the radiator.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy! This was super fun to write. Please don't be shy; leave a comment or question down below!

**Night 1**

“You haven't stayed this long in what feels like years.”

Dan ran a hand through his hair, upsetting the spirals and curls. His already heavy eyelids drooped even lower, but he looked over and grinned sleepily.

“I know. Man, I'm finally gonna be part of your exclusive club.”

I lowered my laptop screen, hiding plans for a new Game Grumps commercial skit. The 'exclusive club' Dan referred to was made up of myself, Barry, and Vernon, although Matt and Ryan were quickly working their way in as well. The five of us were the ones who always locked up, who did the final sweep, who insured that the office would be ready for the next day. In short, we were the ones who stayed the latest, often pushing on to the following day. It was not rare for one of us to be found passed out at their desk or on the Grump couch the next day.

However, tonight, it was just Dan and I.

He worked tirelessly on the NSP cover album, while I strained hard to be funny at 1 AM, which, for the record, was impossible.

“Go home soon, Danny,” I chided. “You'll lose your voice doing this.”

He appeared genuinely fearful for a moment. “Heaven forbid.” After a pause, he seemed to recognize my words as the truth. “Alright, I'm going. You coming?”

I glanced at my half-full Word page, and sighed. “No. Not yet, sorry. This is breaking my brain, but I'll get it.”

He hesitated a moment longer, as though wanting to be gentlemanly and wait up. The battle between his will and his exhaustion ended quickly, and he scooped his jacket off a nearby bean bag chair. “Cool. Good luck with that one.”

I waved him off, squinting at my screen once again. Ugh. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Maybe I ought to take my own advice...

 

**Night 3**

I clicked furiously as the screen before me froze. The editing program stalled, then sent an error message, then disappeared, all within the span of two seconds.

“No!” I shouted. “Goddamn it!”

As though summoned by my seemingly irrational anger, a figure popped up in my peripheral vision. “What's up?”

“This stupid system has been glitching all day,” I said through gritted teeth, once again rebooting the program. “Barry only got through half an episode, and that just deleted itself before my very eyes.” I took a deep breath, and smirked, looking up at Dan. “Wow, isn't technology a gift?”

He giggled, leaning forward. “Here, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

I let him take over the mouse, laughing. “Like task manager?”

“Have you ever, perhaps, heard of the incredible power button? It tends to solve all my problems,” he suggested in a falsely haughty tone. “I'll have you know, I went to Harvard for computer science.” He paused, eyebrows crinkling. “Does Harvard have a computer science major?”

My smile widened. “Who knows? Certainly not me.” The half-finished episode appeared before us. “Ah, look, it did save! Miraculous. You know, just when I think I've got this thing all figured out, it manages to surprise me again. You rascally thing, you.” I shook one finger at the monitor.

“Glad to see all your problems solved. Now, if my WiFi could stop crashing...” Dan muttered.

I jumped up, mood suddenly better. I no longer wanted to fling my keyboard at the wall. “Oh, where are you sitting? Because Ross was griping about the WiFi a few days ago, and it turns out that Arin had flung a t-shirt directly over where the signal was coming from, and we couldn't actually get it down, so now we've got about a two foot radius without internet connection.”

He rolled his eyes, amused. “That sounds like the sort of shenanigans that would go down around here.”

 

**Night 5**

“Hey, come here, listen to this.”

I put my laptop aside and trotted over to where Dan had nestled in on the couch. He'd buried himself in blankets about three hours ago and hadn't budged since, listening to what I assumed was the same song over and over, occasionally frowning or nodding. I plopped down next to him, and put the headphones over my ears. Giving him the thumbs up, I let Dan hit play.

Instantly, my head was flooded with the words of God.

NSP's cover of _Everybody Wants to Rule the World_ had begun playing roughly halfway through, and I was in awe. The guitar flowed so beautifully, the rhythm perfect, the beat pulsing, and the vocals were just... It took me a few seconds to realize my jaw had dropped, but I couldn't seem to close it. Listening to Dan sing took me to another place, to a world where I had never heard him before, not at concerts, not at the office, not at late night karaoke bars where he would beckon and prance at me like a practiced stripper until I nearly choked on my drink from laughing so hard.

“What do you think?”

The music stopped. My head snapped towards him, eyes wide. I lowered the headphones, embarrassed to be caught so out of it. I blinked, and he peered at me closely.

“The diction. Can you understand me in that bit?”

I blinked again, looked at the computer, then at my hands, then back to Dan. I chuckled nervously.

“Uh, Dan, if you want me to say something that actually makes sense, I'm gonna need to listen to that again.”

He laughed, gestured for me to raise the headphones, and hit play again. This time, I payed attention, piecing together the lyrics carefully. Plucking off the headphones, I shifted towards him to speak, but was hit in the face with an abrupt rush of words.

“See, it's hard to tell, because I sang it so often that the lyrics are basically engraved on my brain, and, you know, I love that song, so I want it to be understood, and you were the only one with enough guts to tell me about that bit in 6969 where your exact sentence was “that's just gibberish”, which I super appreciated, which I hope I told you before, like not even Brian would tell me-”

“-because you were so tired,” I finished for him, nodding. “I remember. You were a zombie that week, it was like handling nearly broken glass.”

He nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I was  super fucked up.”

That struck me as hilarious; only Dan could say such a phrase with that level of enthusiasm. Struggling to keep my mirth together, I returned us to the subject at hand.

“No, I think your enunciation is great. _So sad they had to fade it_ , right?”

“Yeah, that's it. Okay. Great. Thank you.”

He plucked the headphones off from around my neck, returning to his work. I didn't stand up, however. I stayed seated, rested my head back against the couch, and stared at the ceiling. Wooden beams crisscrossed over my vision, completely natural except for a single dark green stain, where Vernon had tossed a wad of silly putty, and it had never really come off. That was a good memory, full of watching Vernon babble apologies to a stone-faced Brent while Arin and I absolutely busted a gut in the background, then making Ryan clean it up as a form of 'initiation', something that had never existed in this office until that moment. And boy, did Ryan know it. Perhaps that was why there was still a stain there. 

None of the computer monitors glowed, something very irregular in this office, and as I closed my eyes, it occurred to me how quiet it was. Only Dan and I, sitting in the dim light, with the only sound coming from his typing and the hum of the radiator. It was so peaceful. I loved my job, loved the bustle and hustle that came from having so many wonderful people around me, but this was... Special. This was a moment that was only for me.

Or so I thought. 

When I finally raised my head, I found Dan watching me. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” he offered, smiling at his own cliche.

I shrugged nonchalantly, playing off my previous solidarity. “It's just that... This is pretty cool. It's always busy here. Now it's you and me, against the world and against the workload. It's... Cool,” I ended lamely.

But he looked around carefully, and agreed, “Yeah. This is cool.”

 

** Night 9 **

“Dan!” I hollered. “I found the perfect thing to complete this night!”

A muffled “What?” came in reply, so I picked up my find and ran back into the main room. Dan raised his eyebrows at my quick approach, mouth full of sushi. I slid to a halt, skidding in my sock feet. With a fluid motion, I whipped the radio out from behind my back, and cried “An old-style music device!”

Dan flew to his feet, waving his hands excitedly. He breathed in, and, in an effort to say something, spewed sushi all over the floor. 

I stared for a moment, then lost my shit, nearly sending the radio tumbling to the floor. I bent over, clutching my ribcage with one arm as his cheeks grew bright red. He began to wipe half-chewed wasabi off the table, but I shook my head, still trying to breathe like a functioning human again.

“Leave it,” I gasped. “We'll get it later. For now, let's hook this baby up.”

A nearby outlet turned out to be empty, probably by divine intervention as this office was full of electronic junk, and I knelt by it, twisting a knob in search of a station. Static crackled, interrupted frequently by blasts of Hollywood gossip channels, or a Spanish music station. Dan, ignoring my request, was wiping up his mess behind me with takeout napkins. Finally, right before the knob reached its end, something familiar rang out. I paused, making sure I'd heard correctly, before cranking the volume. Wave after wave of Mambo No. 5 crashed into the room. Not satisfied with the level yet, I twisted the volume even more, until I felt the vibrations from this little radio through the floor, until Dan disregarded his bunched up napkin full of raw fish bits, until my feet were tapping out the beat and we were dancing hard and foolishly and freely, wiggling our hips like professionals. Dan grabbed my hand and twirled me, and I grinned, doing the same to him. Forgetting about neighbouring offices, or what anyone would say if the saw us, we danced. It felt exhilarating, after being stuck in an office chair for hours, struggling through paper work and broken computers, and dealing with being a perfectionist about our projects. Now, at 11 PM on a Thursday night, it didn't matter. My eyes met Dan's, and he threw his head back in pure joy, and my heart felt as though it were about to burst, as cheesy as that may sound. It didn't matter.

 

** Night 11 **

“Crank them tunes, baby!” I shouted, spinning on the spot in time to see Dan bend down towards the radio. 

He paused. He halted long enough for me to wonder what was wrong. With a deep breath, he looked back at me, eyes curious.

“Can we leave the radio off tonight?”

I was confused. That had become our thing, our nightly staple, jamming out together in a fit of madness. So... Why?

“Do you have a headache?”

He shook his head. “No, I just...” 

Another pause. I subconsciously leaned forwards, waiting for the words to leave his mouth. When it appeared as though they never would, I flashed a great big smile at him, falling easily into a teasing routine.

“Aw, Danny, don't tell me you're embarrassed? You're pretty kicking for an old man!”

He rolled his eyes, but a grin lit up his face. “I'm not much older than you all. Brian's the grandpa in the office.”

So he flicked the switch, and some hot beats flowed through us, and it took awhile for my palms to stop sweating so much.

 

** Night 17 **

Tonight was one of those difficult nights, when no matter how long you spend on something, no matter how many different ways you tackle the problem, it always outdoes you. At 1 AM, Barry was only just leaving, blue eyes dulled with exhaustion. Brian had left maybe half an hour before him, full of frustration and too smart to take it out on Dan, who remained, writing out notes for a harmony over and over. As for myself, right when I thought I'd figured out the scheduling for the next two weeks, something would bite me in the ass. Currently, that was Suzy's vacation, planned four weeks in advance and yet still causing issues.

The room was dead silent, the echo of Barry slamming the door behind him seeming to linger for much longer than normal. A gray haze fell over my mind. Something squeaked. Shelves stocked with figurines lining the walls cast bizarre shadows, creating a depth that did not exist on the floor. It was cold for L.A. Winter crept forwards slowly, hinting at its arrival with browning leaves or a sudden dip in temperatures or sudden increase in hot chocolate sales, but it was merely foreplay. Snow never fell here. It never graced us with its appearance, the delicate flakes that smoothed over the holidays like a childhood blanket: comforting and peaceful.

“Piano or guitar harmony?”

I jumped, surprised by the noise. Dan's voice almost sounded inhuman, it was so croaky with overuse. A frown settled over my face when I looked at him.

He was dead. Not literally, of course, but in every other sense of the word. His head drooped, eyes bleary, and he kept rolling his wrists as though to crack them, sore and cramped as they were. The radio, still resting in the corner, did not sing out to us. It grew into a necessity of our late nights together. Not now, however, no, the stillness and quietness of the air was unsettling. The rise and fall of Dan's chest seemed to keep pace with the hum of the refrigerator, his soul burrowing itself into this room; he hadn't seemed to leave in days, very unlike the pattern I once knew, the complicated but unsurprising arrivals of Danial Avidan, when he would stroll into the office jauntily and suddenly everything would be okay, everyone was okay, but I was staring at this very dear friend of mine and he was not okay.

“Piano or guitar harmony?” he repeated.

Hesitantly, I said, “I think you should forget about it for today. We've all had a rough day, and you need sleep.”

His eyes found mine, almost accusing. “No, I can't. We're on a timeline.”

“I know, but you'll just waste more time and energy doing this to yourself.”

“It needs to be done, I can't just, you know, give up.”

“It's not giving up if you're coming back to it,” I soothed. “Listen. You're upset because you're dead on your feet and you and Brian fought a bit. That's fine.” He didn't seem to hear me, but I knew from those eyes, the way they deepened and aged right in front of me, that he listened. “Dan, please.”

No radio played in the background. Heat rose from the blankets piled around Danny, I could feel it from here, radiating like a symphony of music, resonating within us. Music. Such a simple, beautiful concept.

He glanced up, a quirky smile on his face. “I'll go if you do.”

Truly unbelievable. A ray of sunshine lived and breathed before me.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

 

**Night 31**

“Who's Dan?” Brent had joked that day, rolling his eyes towards the forgotten blue and white hat on the couch. “No one here by that name.”

His humour came from a real place, striking a chord within me. I hadn't seen Dan in two weeks, when he tended to make an effort to be around more. The latest nights in the office were emptier, colder, stuffed with silence despite the hits of the 90s playing in the background, and my eyes strayed to his abandoned spot. His lack of presence created a void in my chest, damn it, I missed that dumb smile and his goofy movements and his ridiculous gags and his enchanting music, that voice, those carefree, easy nights, two people communicating through dance and eye contact more than words. We got work done. We got a lot closer than before.

Oh. Right. Work.

Returned from my brief vacation to my own mind, I squinted at the clock on the opposing wall. 9:34. Nothing compared to the all-nighter stunts we'd pulled.

The album, he'd informed us all through a long, frantic text to Arin, was “coming along swimmingly”. All the songs were recorded, the only thing keeping him and Brian away presented itself in the form of stacks upon stacks of unsigned albums. The pre-orders flew in through e-mail in such a way that they expected them to start flying through the windows at any time, Harry Potter style. I was so proud, nevermind excited, being one of the many individuals who clamoured for a signed copy. It was going right up on the fridge, I'd told Dan, who couldn't come up with a response other than a teary grin. He blamed the watery eyes on the Whitney Houston song blasting on the radio. I blamed it on sleep deprivation.

Speaking of which.

I didn't feel the need to stay any longer, remaining past the typical hours more out of habit than anything. My gaze roamed around our wonderful office, in its secret form, a secret to everyone but Dan and I. One finger absentmindedly clicked off the radio while my mind wandered towards once heard melodies intertwining with each other, and I exited the building.

 

**Night 36**

“Oh, baby!”

Dan headbanged viciously to a song I'd never encountered before. It was 10:12, and we had already lost our goddamn minds. Important documents tossed aside, we threw away our priorities for the sake of this grooving tune. I laughed, hard and loud, when our flailing elbows collided, sending both of us to the floor, clutching the wounded appendage.

Dan dramatically draped an arm across his face. “I returned only for you, my love, and this is how you treat me?!” He gasped, “The light is coming for me!”

I shoved him, giggling. “Get out of here, dude. Suck it up, buttercup, the announcer just said that Hit Me Baby was coming up next. We've got a performance to make.”

His words looped through my ears the rest of the night, for I knew they weren't an accident, they weren't a silly joke, just were disguised as one. He'd proudly declared to the whole cast of Grumps that he'd come back only to renew his membership as an all-night Grump, while holding me in a headlock, of course.

It made me smile. He always did.

 

**Night 37**

“I thought you said you don't have anything to work on.”

I raised one eyebrow questioningly at Dan as he launched himself onto the couch, bouncing slightly before landing. He wiggled, getting comfortable.

“I don't,” he replied happily. “There's actually nothing I can do tonight. What a relief!”

I smiled, beginning to type again. “The album will be worth it, Dan, trust me. I know that, having heard only what you've shown me.”

He sighed dreamily. “I wish you could hear Jump. TWRP killed the instruments on that one, it's crazy!”

While I fiddled with the script Arin had entrusted me with for revising, he rambled on, hands waving wildly, eyes alight with the flame of passion I'd learned to recognize. After only a few heartbeats, I gave up typing, devoting myself to his love for his work, listening to every word with my entire being. He wasn't looking at me, he was staring right at the ceiling as though reliving each moment, the good and the bad, and yes, he told me about both, he recounted epic tales and frustrating moments. I listened to this man who had given up everything to do what he loved, and here he was, on the brink of accomplishing something great, and he was simply talking, needing to share what he'd experienced, his lungs bursting out of his body and into mine, until we were breathing the same air, thinking the same thoughts, feeling the same feelings, and looking right at each other. His words trailed off, and once again, I saw the tears welling up in his eyes, and felt them in my own.

“Can we leave the radio off tonight?” he asked.

I cleared my throat, ignoring the bump that clogged it. “Yeah. Yeah, we can.”

Outside, a few flakes of snow drifted softly downwards.

 

**Night 46**

As quickly as he'd come, he'd gone again, whisked away into the wind by Brian, agents, and the promise of long signing sessions. Those were, apparently, a joy, Brian whispered to me, voice heavy with sarcasm.

Alas, I was left alone again.

My hands twitched with unused energy, barely touching the keyboard with how quickly I typed. I'd neglected to turn on the music, which I regretted deeply now, but my position was comfortable, and I was being productive, so... Hard to get up.

A door creaked.

Forget the previous statement. I was instantly on my feet, alert and certainly terrified. Who the hell had broken in, because everyone was definitely gone, and holy shit I was freaked out. Right before I gathered up the courage to grab a weapon of some sort, a lanky figure rounded the corner.

Dan.

My shoulders relaxed as my stomach tightened. He hadn't been here in awhile again, that darned album soaking up all of his free time, and I'd missed him so much. It flooded me, sentiments running rampant in my chest, until he spoke.

“Hey,” he chuckled. “Did I scare you?”

I immediately wanted to elbow him hard. “No, doofus, I was already standing when you entered.”

His eyes went pointedly to my blankets and laptop spilled all over the ground. I grinned sheepishly, allowing him the win. He came closer, stepping neatly around a heap of games Ross had thrown on the floor. I could hear every step, echoing nearly imperceptibly throughout the room, tracing his path here and forever onwards, leaving his mark on this world through song and I just beamed at him.

“Good to see you.”

He raised his chin, and puffed his chest out a bit. “I've got a surprise for you.”

Consider me interested.

“Yeah?”

Gesturing for me to stay put, he shuffled around the furniture. I couldn't help but watch him go, a towering figure of pure goodness, that mess of hair framing his face in the strangest, most perfect way, and I wanted to run outside and tumble in the newly fallen snow, wanted to shout to the sleeping city beyond these walls, wanted to run and have an adventure and do everything and nothing at once. Most of all, I wanted to stay still, unafraid of the quiet in this room, between our two existences, and watch Dan do what he would do.

He glanced back over his shoulder, too suddenly for me to compose myself and hide my obvious staring. But he didn't laugh. He didn't crack a joke. A small smile flitted across his lips, like a wisp of smoke, mysterious and fleeting. Then he bent, and clicked on the radio.

An unknown song was fading out, and a frown washed over me, as I struggled to figure out what it might be. Dan held up a solitary figure, obviously listening closely to what would come next. We did not speak, but the announcer did.

“ _Coming up next, we have a cover of one of the more popular songs on our radio. Ladies and gentlemen, all you night owls, please enjoy Everybody Wants to Rule the World.”_

A hauntingly familiar melody began, returning me to a time of diction, jokes, work, and a very clear image of myself not knowing what on earth would come next. My eyes snapped up to Dan's, disbelief etched on my every muscle, as I listened, and listened, and then I heard him, I heard him, Dan's voice, on the radio, just as lovely and stunning as I could have imagined and it was there. This was real, this was happening, the song sending emotions through my mind and on to my face, oh, Dan, baby, it's your song, and we aren't the only ones hearing this, there are people, all over the country, hearing this, right now, and even if they don't know why, they know it's special. They can feel it, and maybe it brings them to tears or maybe they try to pretend it isn't so, or maybe they text a friend about it, but it was happening to them, and it certainly was happening to us. Dan stepped closer, then closer, and then closer still. We stood mere inches apart, breathing in, then out, then in again. He smiled, and held out a hand.

“Would you care to dance with me?”

I smiled radiantly at him, trying to express everything I felt in this moment, how proud I was of him, how honoured I was to share this moment with him, the love, and his eyes reflected it back at me. I took his hand. He pulled me close, his other hand resting gently but warmly on my hip. My head rested on his chest, the beating of his heart a reassuring presence, keeping my grounded.

We took a breath.

We took a step.

And we didn't let go, even long after the song had faded away.


End file.
